


Taste of Tonic

by Natty



Series: Hunger, Taste and Touch [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Imprisoned Arthur, Love Potion/Spell, Magic Revealed, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Powerful Merlin (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:42:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24956278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natty/pseuds/Natty
Summary: With Arthur locked away in the dungeons, Morgana begins to realize that keeping Merlin under her spell isn’t as simple as she had hoped.(This is a sequel to Heart Ache’s Hunger. Its probably best to read that one first but I bet you’ll catch on to the main story line pretty quickly either way because…I’M NOT SUBTEL AT ALL)
Relationships: Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Morgana (Merlin)
Series: Hunger, Taste and Touch [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1806169
Comments: 3
Kudos: 69





	Taste of Tonic

Merlin could feel the pull of something underground. He’d ignored it for days maybe even weeks now. There was a horrible tugging in his gut and an incessant voice calling out his name so that it echoed in his mind. Like he was being summoned by a ghost, called to its resting place somewhere beneath the stone foundations of the castle. He couldn’t ignore it anymore, so he followed it down. 

Down to a place that he almost remembered. Steep stone steps that felt only as familiar to him as an almost forgotten dream and parts of him where lost along the way leaving his mind torn in two places. One waiting above in the sun and another lurking below. It left him feeling dazed, his head filled with rambling thoughts. Down in the cold and damp that made bones ache and muscles twinge in stiff misery. The castle dungeons…

There were guards on duty, but they fled from him like roaches from sunlight and he was alone with the cells and the cold and the man curled up on the floor behind the metal bars. He looked up when Merlin came in, jerked up from the ground and looked at Merlin’s face. His eyes were wide and blue and hopeful. 

There was a voice calling to Merlin, saying his name over and over. Emanating from even deeper underground but the terrible pull that had dragged him down ended here. Merlin looked into the prisoner’s face and saw a flash of silver and gold, a rampant dragon on a scarlet standard drifting through the haze of his mind. Slowly he walked closer to the bars. The man was scruffy but young, familiar in a distant kind of way. “I know you.” 

“Merlin.” The man’s voice was rough, as though he hadn’t spoken for a long time. He looked close to tears. Merlin tilted his head to the side; this man was nothing but grief and loneliness. Somewhere inside himself he ached with that same grief. It had settled weeks ago; it had been forgotten. It hadn’t belonged to him anyway. “Merlin.” 

“Yes.” He offered in confirmation and as invitation to speak more. The man wet his lips and stepped forward.

“You shouldn’t be down here.” Morgause’s voice split the moment harshly but Merlin didn’t turn to look at her. He could sense her standing behind him, an irritating buzz, but she was irrelevant. He could feel Morgana coming. He spun to watch the doorway as his queen arrived. She filled his senses and he covered the distance between them in a few long strides towards the stairs. Why had he come down here? Why had he ever left her side? 

“Wait!” Merlin didn’t hear the plea. His mind was full of Morgana’s voice, Morgana’s breath, Morgana’s steady heartbeat, Morgana. She took his hand in her own and caught Arthur’s eye as she pulled Merlin towards the stairs. Arthur could all but hear her speaking in his head, knew exactly how the smirk on her lips would make her voice sound. ‘you’ve lost Arthur, just look how badly.’ Merlin followed her back up the stairs. Up into the sun and away from the hazy dream beneath the castle. Arthur spent the rest of his day watching the sky change from blue to pink and eventually into black. 

…

Merlin sat up in bed, sheets pooling around his waist and early morning sun spilling through the gauzy curtains. Morgana was still asleep. He watched her for a few quiet moments while he waited for Gwen to arrive. He’d broken Morgana’s dark hair free from its braids in the night. It had knotted in his fist, loose and silken as she had come down from a gasping high, clutching at his shoulders and speaking breathless words into his ear. Now her hair spread over the pillowcases like shining swirls of black ink. A knock sounded against the door.

Merlin refocused. “Come in.” The door swung aside to reveal Morgana’s servant. She looked strained. “Good morning Gwen.” Her eyes were red rimmed and sore looking. Worry curled in the pit of Merlin’s stomach. 

“Morning Merlin.” She carried a silver tray of breakfast foods and three silver glasses, one with hot steam rising from the liquid within: tea. He took in the hunted look on her face. 

“Did Helios do something?” The man was a constant nuisance to Gwen. He leered at her, followed her throughout her workday. Merlin didn’t like him; he didn’t like the way that he looked at Morgana either but as far as Merlin knew he hadn’t actually done anything to either of them. His ill intent was clear enough though. 

“What? No, Merlin-” Her voice trembled, “No, no one has done anything to me.” She looked down at her burden as her lips pursed into an unhappy line. “I wish you wouldn’t worry about me.” Gwen placed the tray down on Morgana’s table and with shaking hands lifted the steaming goblet. She carried it over to Merlin and handed it to him without looking up from the copper toned tea. It smelled of honey and yellow calendula. Her stomach turned. 

“Thank you, Gwen.” Her hands, her fingers trembled and flinched as she fought the urge to snatch the cup back from him. 

She squeezed her eyes shut as he drank, biting down on her cheek, willing the words in her mind not to come out of her mouth. She heard the tiny click of the cup being sat down on the bedside table and her resolve crumbled. “I’m so sorry Merlin, you have to know that I am so, so sorry for this.” She should have poured the loathsome liquid out on her way to the room. Why hadn’t she thought of it. “I don’t want any part of this, if there was anything I could do- I would, you know I would Merlin.”

There was a rustling of blankets in the bed beside Merlin as Morgana rose, “Good morning Gwen.” Morgana said stiffly. Her eyes were cold, her lips a thin line. 

Gwen gave a jerky curtsy and stuttered out, “Mor- Good morning my lady.”

Morgana tilted her head to the side and looked the maid up and down. She offered a brittle looking smile. “You were just leaving weren’t you Gwen?” 

Gwen’s jaw set. For just a moment something rebellious flared in her eyes, then she glanced at Merlin and her bravery sparked out. With another bow of her head and a quiet, “Yes, my lady” Gwen turned for the door. 

Merlin watched her go with his brows drawn together. He played her words over in his head, and again, and again. They took up a disquieting loop, trying to mean something but never managing to convey a message he could understand. One of Morgana’s hands wrapped around his arm and she leaned into him, warm and soft and beautiful. “What was she talking about?”

“She’s confused, clearly under too much stress. Nothing for us to worry about, everything is exactly the way that it should be.” She leaned up to bring her lips level with his ear and whispered, “Ann an dìoghras dìochuimhnich…” Gold flickered in her eyes as Morgana’s knuckles brushed against Merlin’s jaw, gently turning his face towards her and away from the closed door. He met her wide green eyes. “Doesn’t it feel like everything is exactly the way it should be.” 

He kissed her, his lips tasted of flowers and honey and an ancient kind of magic. 

…

The woman was unwashed, she even smelled dirty. Morgana almost laughed at Merlin’s wrinkled nose, but the peasant was weeping, and she didn’t want to be cruel. Only a foot or two away from Morgana’s silk skirts the woman’s cracked and dirty fingers where pressed against the floor of the throne room. She leaned back and took a glance to her left where Morgause was looking down contemptibly at the woman. No, she shouldn’t allow her rule to be questioned by the peasantry. It set a bad precedent. She looked to her right where Merlin stood, soft eyed despite the awful smell that warped his expression. Again, she tried not to laugh. 

A particularly loud sob drew her back to the matter at hand. Morgana wondered how this poor soul had become the unlucky pick of the lower town. Certainly, a woman who fearfully broke into tears at the sight of her queen did not volunteer to speak on behalf of the people. The woman shook and stared up at Morgana with red and leaky eyes. She had barely choked out a sentence before completely dissolving into terrified sobs. The people were afraid.

Morgana sighed, giving in to the angel on her right she leaned down to take one of the woman’s filthy and blistered hands. She offered a gentle smile. “It’s alright, you have nothing to be afraid of.” The woman looked up in shock. She had mentioned her name, but it was long forgotten now. Her lips quivered as her round eyes stared into Morgana’s. “This has been a difficult time for the people, but things will be better now. You can tell your friends and your family that the strife is over. The blood I have spilled was to usher out the tyranny of my father’s rule, never again will my people go hungry while nobles feast, never again will they work their fingers to the bones for nothing but taxes as reward and never again will children be put to the fire for the gifts they were born with. My rule shall be a new chapter for all of Camelot. I will prove a better ruler than my father or brother could ever be because I truly care.” 

Merlin leaned against the side of the throne listening to Morgana speak comfort in quiet tones to the frightened woman. As his queen leaned forward her hair slid down her shoulders and formed a dark curtain over her profile. How could anyone but her ever be queen? She could be so kind when she wanted to, but the strength of her was inexorable and implicit. Everything about her was beautiful.  
Merlin watched the peasant woman give a deep curtsy and flee the throne room. Morgana was smiling and it infected him, he beamed down at her. She was radiant and all the world around them was white noise. He wanted so badly to touch her, to reach out and give body to the closeness that already existed in the intermingling of their magic. He was the heat of the sun, and the force of the wind, and the strength of the earth, he was all the world and every part of him belonged to his queen.

Merlin’s magic writhed against its confines, hit a wall, and then turned in on itself. 

Morgana was so beautiful. 

He heard a hiss from beside him, Morgause. She was always there, hanging over Morgana like an unfortunate shadow. “Something you’d like to say sister?” Morgana questioned. She didn’t look away from Merlin, but the smile had fallen off her face. She looked pensive… mean. Merlin remembered that look, thoughtful and uncompromising. Morgause fed her darkest instincts. Morgause was responsible for that look. It hadn’t crossed Morgana’s face even once before the witch had come into their lives. 

It was an odd thought, he tried to follow it, but he couldn’t. Their past was strange, a mass of memories that floated just above his head and when he reached for them, they came in flashes. Morgana, stunning in a red dress; the first time he’d laid eyes on her. Morgana in Ealdor, a sword in her hand. Morgana in his old room, looking at him hopefully, standing closer than she had to. It was hard to focus on them. Morgause’s droning voice cut into his thoughts. “The people should not question the choices of their queen!” 

Merlin felt the angry twitch of his magic, like the flicking tail of a coiled snake irritated by a passing fly. He’d reined it in, it had taken time, Morgana had helped him. It had been so difficult at first and he couldn’t understand why, control had always come easy to him. Under his command, the snake relaxed pack into stillness, patient and thoughtful but not quite obedient. “Morgana understands the importance of showing respect to her people.”

“Morgana will lose this kingdom if she continues in her soft-hearted policy. To punish those who defy her is her right as queen and if she does not, they will cease to fear her.” 

Morgana sighed heavily. “I do not need to rule the people through fear sister. That was Uther’s way. I intend to have an entirely different kind of rule. That is the final word on the subject.” 

Morgana stretched as she stood up from the throne. There was a great rustling of skirts and silks as she made her way out of the throne room. 

Passing the windows, she drew in a breath that smelled of smoke. She hadn’t lied. Her crusade was finally over, and her conquest was laid out before her in the hills and forests of Camelot and some of her victories were closer to her still. She felt that triumph every time she looked at Merlin, the heady taste of power and control. 

…

Gwen ground the herbs. The kitchens bustled around her, but no one came too close to where she sat slowly reducing dried flowers and plants to a grainy powder. No one wanted to get too close to something that they knew was magic. The process of preparing the concoction took most of the day and Morgause had insisted that Morgana delegate the time-consuming task to someone else. Morgana always came to collect it personally in the evening. Gwen had tried to tamper with the potion once. She’d hoped to make it inert by replacing the calendula flowers that Gaius brought her with another yellow flower that she’d picked from the castle gardens. She been caught. Morgana had known the difference the moment she had seen the powdered ingredients. 

Her anger had been cold and dangerous. She had sent guards to drag Gwen from her bed and back down to the pestle in the kitchens. Under Morgana’s careful watch Gwen had redone the entire process. The fires in the kitchen had been out and the cold had been terrible, and the threat of violence hung over Gwen’s head while Morgana loomed over her. As she performed each step Morgana had painstakingly explained each ingredients purpose and meaning. Gwen learned that the ingredients were entirely benign until they’d been ingested, and the right words were spoken. 

The sun had already been beginning to rise by the time the task was completed. Once Morgana was satisfied with Gwen’s work, she had called Merlin to her. Morgana made Gwen wait in the freezing kitchen with them while she brewed the potion and administered it. After that Morgana had made it Gwen’s job to not only prepare the ingredients for the tea but also to deliver it to Merlin regularly. Morgana had to be the one to say the words, only she could activate the magic, but Gwen could still feel the weight of responsibility heavy in her gut. She had tried to shirk her new duty only once; the threats Morgana had made then were some she would never forget. She hadn’t had the courage to try again and for that the guilt was killing her. 

Gwen stilled in her work of grinding down the dried petals when the kitchen went silent. She didn’t look up, she listened to the sound of sure footsteps on the stone floor. “Hello Gwen, my old friend.”  
Gwen set her jaw and returned to the task of grinding stone against crumbling petals. “I’m not your friend anymore Morgana.” 

“Oh, I know.” Gwen could hear the sneer in Morgana’s voice. Quick as a whip, Morgana’s hand lashed out to grab hold of Gwen’s arm and pull her up from the bench. The stone bowl nearly tipped over as her arm was yanked up and away from its task. With a grip like steal Morgana dragged Gwen from the kitchens and into an alcove in the hall. “Tell me what you did!”

“I haven’t done anything!” Gwen made to tug her arm free and felt Morgana’s sharp nails scratch against her skin, leaving risen, red lines in their wake. 

Morgana released her arm only to shove her back further into the alcove. Her lips were a red snarl against her pail face. “Really? Haven’t been telling lies? Haven’t been messing about with my spells? Merlin was in the dungeons recently; I suppose he felt the urge to visit my dear brother”. 

“What?” Gwen’s heart stopped. Her blood was at once replaced with ice water; her stomach twisted into straining knots. She licked her dry lips. “No, my lady I swear to you I’ve done nothing. I’ve changed nothing.”

Morgana’s face settled into a false calm, serenity washing over anger, it didn’t reach her eyes. The same hand that had drawn blood across Gwen’s arm reached up to delicately run over Gwen’s cheek. “I can control you Gwen. You would be dead if I couldn’t. Do you know how I could control you?” She waited. 

Throat too dry to speak, Gwen shook her head. Her own voice echoed in her mind, asking Merlin about Arthur. Hoping that Morgana wouldn’t hear, realizing she’d been caught and worse above all, the empty look in Merlin’s eyes. The name had meant nothing to him. Morgana continued, “Do I have to revisit those possibilities? Are you a threat Gwen?” 

Gwen swallowed against the sand that seemed to fill her mouth. “No, my lady, I have not tampered with your magic in any way.” She was shaking. “Please Morgana I haven’t!”

Morgana gave her a brittle little smile. “I believe you Gwen. It seems we shall have to brew our magic stronger won’t we if Merlin’s becoming too well adjusted. Just remember Gwen if you make so much as one more mistake it will cost you.” Something in Morgana’s eyes shifted slowly from rage to sorrow. “We used to be such friends Gwen. Wouldn’t it be nice to be that way again?” 

After the queen left, Gwen stumblingly made her way back to the kitchens. She picked up her work with numb hands and staring into nothing returned to her task. The sweet and citrus sent of the ground ingredients filled her nostrils, it lingered like a stain. 

…

The sky had turned to a wash of pinks and yellows by the time Morgana returned to her chambers. Merlin was sitting in the alcove at the window staring out at the darkening lower town. His fingers tapped anxiously against his leg. He didn’t even stir as she entered the room. “You look pensive.” 

“I’m trying to remember something.” He spoke as if he were asleep. His lips barely moved to speak the words. It came over him like that sometimes. He seemed to retreat into himself every once and a while. He’d spend an hour or so twisting himself into knots on the inside trying to recall something that had been erased. Brow furrowed in frustrated confusion; he’d ask her about fragments of clouded memories. Eventually it would pass. 

“Something like what?” she said as she undid the top lacing of her dress. She wondered if she would have to send for Gwen to help her ready for bed while Merlin pondered. It wouldn’t be the first time.  
Face turned up towards the fading sun, Merlin closed his eyes. Hazy images danced for him; each a blur of gray backgrounds drowned out by one spark of blazing colour: Morgana. He could see it now. Her hand on his in an alcove as she whispered to him of danger, her eyes had been sunken from exhaustion and wide with worry. Her rich dark hair and porcelain pail skin reduced to the status of an ashen waif. Behind him Morgana in the present slipped out of her over dress and let it crumple to the floor, her lacy shift clung soft and loose about her frame. 

The last of the sunlight’s warmth fell down too low to shine through the window onto Merlin’s face. He opened his eyes and turned to Morgana. His eyes were far away, glassy, still immersed in her whispered warning long since passed. “A name… or…Who is Arthur?” 

A heavy weight settled in Morgana’s stomach. “Merlin,” she waited until his distant eyes settled on hers. “Tell me you love me.” 

“I love you.” 

She let out a breath and approached the window. Faintly orange light painted her skin against the background of ghostly blues. “Tell me you want me.” 

“I want you.” He stood up, leaning his back against the stone wall behind him as Morgana came near. His face crumpled in frustration and eyes no less glazed said, “Its too hard to tell the difference anymore between certainty and… lies.”

No more than a breath away from him she stopped. Her heart pounded against her ribs, a staccato rhythm that rocked through her entire body. Morgana wet her lips and careful to keep her voice soft said, “It can be… it must be disorienting… but eventually,” She ran a shaky hand up from his wrist to his bicep. “after enough time has passed everything feels real, that’s what makes it real.”

“Or fake.” He looked emptily at her, an expression almost like placidity replacing the ire of uncertainty from a moment before. He lifted his hand to her face and ran his knuckles up her cheek until his hand rested, docile, by her eye. “Once you can’t tell the difference, everything becomes illusion.” 

Eager to distract herself from his factious comment she took his face in her hands and placed a generous kiss on his lips. “Trust this; you are mine.” 

His eyes flicked up to hers, a thin ring of blue encasing wide pupils. “Say it again.” He said lowly, something rough in his voice, rumbling up from deep within his chest.

“You are mine.” His hands settled at her hips, strong and sure, gathering lacy fabric up towards her waist until he touched warm skin. Morgana’s fingers busied with his laces while she brought their mouths together again. 

Braking away from her lips Merlin kissed his way down her neck. He could feel her heart thundering beneath the thin skin of her throat and the world was base and simple. He loved her, he wanted her, and he was hers. 

Hands sliding ever upward, Merlin felt his way from her sharp hip bones to her ribcage as he pulled her shift up over her head. Her hair caught up in the movement of her shift and fell back to her shoulders in bouncing waves of perfumed ringlets. He pulled her to him. His lips found their way to her collar bone, lingered for a moment and then with a final scrape of his teeth made they’re way down her chest. 

Morgana bit at her lip, fingers knotting tightly in Merlin’s hair as she pulled him against herself. In parody of their former task, Merlin’s hands slid down her back, trailing just behind his mouth as he sunk to his knees. The last of the sun had faded and the room was immersed in inky blacks and blues. The colours of a new and painful bruise. 

As his fingers ran over her ribs, trailed her spine, and dug into her hips he thought how fragile she seemed. Delicate as the bones of a bird and so thin beneath their wrapping of flesh and muscle. Above him, she loosed a long shaky sigh. Her fingers clenched and spasmed on his shoulders, nails leaving pink scratches that he didn’t even feel. How breakable she was like this. A far away voice was whispering in his mind. Harsh and horse… angry. Something that was trapped that wanted to get free even if it meant clawing its way out of him. He kissed the crease of her thigh. He could reach up and snap her neck, it would be easy, she’d never even know what happened. 

Merlin froze mid movement. The thought alone was like cold water suddenly rushing down his spine. Now that he was aware of it the voice had disappeared, sunken back into the low murmur of voices that had been buzzing in his head all day. Feeling as though he were thawing out from a solid block of ice, he stood slowly. He let the tip of his nose skim along her skin from her belly back to the side of her neck as he rose. Morgana’s eyes were closed, her head slightly tilted back, her mouth slightly open… she hadn’t noticed. Silently, Merlin pushed the thought from his mind. 

…

Gwen shifted uncomfortably in her chair; eyes glued to the back of Morgana’s lacy dress as she stood tinkering with something at the mantle. It had been a long time since she and Morgana had shared a meal. To be ushered in and sat at the loaded table had been strange. Morgana had behaved oddly like her old self, as though she imagined she and Gwen were friends again. As though the last year had never happened. 

Guiltily, Gwen wished Merlin were there. He had a way of tempering Morgana. She’d seen it in the throne room when it was opened for petitioners. To beg before Morgana was an entirely different experience depending on weather Merlin was stood beside her or if it was only the queen and Morgause. 

Morgana was muttering to herself, and Gwen could see the reflection of the queen’s face in the mirror above the mantle. Gwen swallowed hard, as Morgana’s eyes turned to gold in her reflection. She couldn’t see around Morgana’s shoulder but something like steam was rising up around her. Gwen listened to the sound of something clinking, a spoon against a glass perhaps. She felt strangely like a child about to be punished for some reckless act. “I haven’t done anything.” Gwen bit down hard on her tongue as soon as the words were out. 

Morgana glanced over her shoulder at her maidservant. Her expression was sublime, the undertone of bitterness that Gwen had become accustom to was missing from the queen’s eyes. “My poor Gwen. We used to be such friends. You miss Arthur don’t you.” Morgana turned back to her task on the mantel. This took a little bit of time. “Its alright you don’t have to miss him anymore.”

At the mention of Arthur’s name Gwen went stiff. Painfully stiff, as though her muscles had begun to ossify, slowly turning her into a living statue trapped in her seat. Feeling as though she were prying apart the lips of a vice, Gwen forced herself to speak, “Why, what do you mean?” 

Morgana finally turned and strode to the table. She placed a cup of her own personal panacea on the table before Gwen. Steam rose up from the hot contents. In an instant Gwen recognized the stench of little yellow flowers, the smell alone filled her head with a fog of panic. Morgana’s heavily jewelled fingers pressed against the base of the silver cup, it made an ugly little sound as it slid across the table. “Have a drink Gwen.”

…

Morgana took a seat on the stone steps that led up from the castle vaults and carefully opened the tiny clasp of her prize. The locket was hollow inside, nothing but the concave opposite of the delicate frame. It looked like gold but could have just as easily been brass.

It didn’t matter, Morgana hadn’t chosen it for its value or even for its beauty. There were words pressed into the metal, some syrupy snippet of a sonnet written by a long-forgotten lover but immortalized in a piece of relatively plane jewelry. It had spent the last few decades, at least, hidden in Camelot’s vaults. Morgana drew the long pin from her hair and pressed it slowly but persistently into the meat of her thumb. A small bead of blood welled up around the point of the pin hallowing it in red. She drew back the pin, dropping it to the side where it clattered softly. With her lips still pressed into a firm line she picked up the locket and drew her bleeding thumb across the words where they were raised and backwards on the inside of the trinket. It stung. 

On her belt hung a small pair of seamstress’s scissors and there was a small canvas bag sitting in her lap. Inside was light purple powder that smelled mostly of lavender, a sent which effectively concealed the smell of the other ingredients. Morgana gently tipped the bag until its contents spilled into the same half of the locket as her now drying blood. 

She snapped the locket shut and ascended the stairs. She made her way through the bustling halls towards her chambers. It was strange. To look at the servants that scuttled back and forth in the castle, you wouldn’t have necessarily known that anything had changed at all. They had adjusted so quickly. Her door was open. 

“No.” Merlin’s voice drifted through the open door before she reached it.

“Merlin you have to.” Gwen answered. 

“I don’t want to. It gives me a headache.” Morgana walked into the room and closed the door behind her. Merlin was inside, once again staring dreamily out the window. Gwen was nervously hovering at his shoulder, quietly trying to talk him round into drinking the hot cup of tea in her hands. Merlin shook his head. “It makes me tired. There’s something I need to remember.” 

“Merlin?” His head whipped about to look at Morgana. He jumped up from the windowsill and strode to her side. Morgana held out a lazy hand for Gwen to pass her the tea. “Will you drink this for me?”  
Merlin considered her. There was a brief moment where Morgana thought he would say no but instead he acquiesced with a sighed, “Yes, alright.” 

Taking the cup from Morgana’s hand, Merlin finished the tea in two long swallows. As soon as he moved the cup away from his lips, Morgana leaned in to capture them in a searing kiss. As she pulled away, she whispered “Ann an dìoghras dìochuimhnich.” Her eyes alit with gold and in answer Merlin’s sparked as well before he closed them.

Something heavy washed over him, like being struck by a wave of honey; thick, sticky and lingering but also sweet. There had been something on his mind, something worrying him. A soft and warm hand cradled his cheek, he leaned into it. His magic reached out in responce to that touch, intwining with Morgana’s, weaving through it until they were locked together like the threads that made up a woven blancket. That must have been it, Morgana was in trouble. She’d been under so much stress since she’d become queen, pulled in so many directions, responcible for so much. She wore it well, regal as ever not so much as a crack in the veneer of her composure... but still he had to worry. Someone should.

He opened his eyes. Morgana was looking at him and it took him a long moment to realize that Gwen was in the room, she was looking at him too. Gwen had a strange, pinched look on her face. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her chin facing down and her eyes, cast in shadow by the angle of her face, seemed to burn. Her eyes broke away from his and she turned to begin tidying the room. He watched her with a mild curiousity. Gwen stoked the fire, he knew how to do that. He could remeber... No, that couldn’t have been him. Merlin watched her bustle about the room with her head down and let his mind wander.

Clutched tightly in Morgana’s fist the locket hummed with unused power. She felt the metal bite into her skin. She ought to make Gwen leave but she hesitated. It was a brand new type of magic in her hand. A charm of focuse, it sparked and crackled in her hand reaching and searching for something to latch on to. She really ought to make Gwen leave. 

Instead she cleared her throat to get Merlin’s attention. He looked at her and smiled as though she were the sun itself, souly responcible for all the warmth in the world. She lifted her hand and pealed her fingers away from the metal shell to present the locket to him palm up. Invisibly, it sizzeled in her hand.

Merlin looked into her palm. It was a pretty, little thing, but too plain to suit Morgana. “What is it?” 

‘It’s a lock; the kind that doesn’t open’, Morgana thought to herself, but she licked her lips and said, “It’s a locket from the vaults. I’d like to put a lock of your hair in it.”

Somewhere in the very back of his mind Merlin refused, “Alright.”

Morgana took hold of the scissors she’d been carrying on her belt. Ever accommodating, Merlin bowed his head so that Morgana wouldn’t have to reach so high to cut his hair. She ran her fingers through it and took up a lock at the back of his neck where it wouldn’t show and cut it off. Tradition suggested that one ought to keep a lock of their lover’s hair, tied with a colourful ribbon and hid it in the same place as soppy love letters. Magic required no such thing which was for the best since Morgana and Merlin shared no letters. 

Morgana opened the clasp of the locket and placed the lock of Merlin’s hair in the center, on a bed of light purple powder that smelled like lavender. The locket closed with a quite click and Morgana lifted it over her head. The castle shook. 

Merlin let out a gasp and fell to his knees. it was as though something had torn his chest in half to place something alien inside before forcing his ribcage shut around it. It was heavy, it hurt, his body crumbled under the weight of it and now little more than powder he was drawn up towards a pulsing magnet. He opened gold eyes, that flickered and shone in time with the quaking earth. When had he closed them? The world was a wash of unfamiliar, ugly colours and textures. He wanted so badly to turn away from it. He shook his head and closed his eyes again. Someone was screaming. In pain? In fear? He didn’t care, he just wanted them to shut up. 

The cold and unkind something settled in his gut, at the back of his mouth, ready and waiting to spill out and he only wanted one thing in all the world. His eyes opened to see Morgana’s face. She belonged to him. She looked frightened. He realized all at once that the room was shaking. Morgana had been knocked off her feet, she was the only thing that didn’t seem to be made up of stabbing, angry colour. 

He realized it wasn’t one person screaming it was coming from all around, dozens of voices blending together. The room was shaking. He made it stop. 

Morgana was lying on the floor and someone else got up and ran from the room. The shaking had stopped but there was still so much sound. Floating in from the windows, hammering against the door, weeping, screaming, sobbing, and yelling. He could drown it all out. She was his and they shouldn’t worry about what was happening outside. Merlin crawled to Morgana’s side. 

…

Giving up on fiddling with the gold chain around Morgana’s neck, Merlin ran his fingers over her bare shoulder. A few wispy strands of her hair caught the midday sunlight that shone through the coloured glass window in her room. The window was broken now. The room was in shambles. She lay on her stomach while she drew absentminded patterns over Merlin’s skin. It was just her and him and magic. It hung in the air between and around them, humming and present but unsee-able. He wasn’t even sure if it was hers or his. Perhaps it was something entirely new made up from the pounding of their hearts, the heat of their bodies and the fog of their breath. Wherever it had come from, it was always with him now. He’d opened his eyes and felt it, he’d looked into her face and known that it would never leave him. 

He could stay with her forever, lying in the warmth of the sun and watching as its rays shifted across her skin, the only indication that any time had passed at all. Merlin ran his hand down Morgana’s spine, feeling his way to the small of her back. Her skin was the colour of fresh cream and wild roses; decadent and flawless. 

There was a kind of magic humming in his mind. He would worry, but it was Morgana. His thoughts twisted in endless circles, searching for something he’d forgotten but they always just came back to her in exaltation, Morgana, Morgana, Morgana.

“Morgana.” Merlin winced in annoyance, he hadn’t even heard the door open, hadn’t felt the witch’s presence. He been too caught up in his thoughts. Morgause had entered the room. She strode into its center. “I knew I’d find you here, its as though you’ve forgotten that you have a kingdom to run sister.” Morgause’s dark brown eyes flited between Morgana and Merlin. Her face contorted into an ugly twist when she looked at him. “The council is gathering, quite a bit of damage was done when-.” She stopped. 

Morgause eyes seemed to be stuck on the locket that hung proudly about Morgana’s neck. She gave Merlin a cautious glance. “You had better come with me sister.” 

Morgana made a face but slipped out of the bed. The last of the sunlight was stolen away by a drifting cloud, casting new colours through the room. Merlin watched the tension in Morgana’s shoulders as she talked to her sister and dressed. Gold and cream silk settling over her skin. 

Morgause droned on. The city, the towns, the villages. It didn’t matter, the world outside of this room didn’t relate to him, it didn’t interest him. He only really existed in the feel of Morgana’s skin against his and in the gasps that he swallowed from her lips. In reverence Merlin watched the new light play over Morgana’s features as she spoke and ground his teeth as Morgause answered. Morgana kissed him before she followed her sister out of the room. He watched Morgause as they walked out the door. 

Without Morgana there he was unsettled. There was a pull, a terrible feeling that crawled up from somewhere whenever he was alone. Unwelcome voices that insisted he was forgetting something. That he had something to do. They wrapped around him like blankets, whispering and crooning at him in desperate tones. They wouldn’t leave him again until he was at Morgana’s side. Only she could chase them away. He closed his eyes and tried to block out the pull, shush the voices and push away the need to sink into the ground. Another voice echoed through his mind, deep and old, it resonated through him. It made his bones vibrate in his flesh as it went on and on in its chorus of his name. Merlin pursed his lips and squeezed his eyes tighter shut but he couldn’t block it out. He curled his hands into fists and felt the sting of his nails biting in. the voice just went on. He pulled a pillow over his head. Morgana would be back soon. He ground his teeth against the ongoing murmur. She never really left him for long. 

Deep breaths. If he could focus on something, anything that would distract him from the sound of a heartbeat that lagged just a second behind his. It shook the floor, no that wasn’t right… It shook him, his bones were rattling in his skin. He sat up, letting the pillow fall to the floor. Striding across the room he started to riffle through the chest at the foot of the bed. Morgana’s clothes and things and-  
There was a knife. No, a dagger. It was beautiful. It was ornately concealed in a gilded scabbard. It had been a gift. His mind supplied the thought without prompting. A gift from who? He pulled the blade free of its cover. A shiver ran through him, a forgotten fear, the anticipation of something that he knew he couldn’t stop. Somewhere in the back of his mind a voice said ‘Your right Merlin, girls like pretty things’ and Merlin’s head felt as though it would split in half. 

He dropped the dagger. Its two pieces clattered against the floor as he knotted his fingers in his hair. his mind was full of clanging and ringing and laughing and that wretched heartbeat. He had to find it. If he could just find it, surely it would leave him alone. He picked the dagger up again, leaving its scabbard on the floor and made his way out, towards the beating heart beneath the castle. His magic twisted and screamed in his blood. He used it. Let it carry him to the place it wanted to be. He blinked and opened his eyes somewhere dark and cold. From the shadows, Merlin watched a familiar stranger pace back and forth inside a cage. Morgana had asked him not to come here.

**Author's Note:**

> (Morgana has been placing charms on top of enchantments on top of potions to keep Merlin in check. Sooner or later he just won’t be Merlin at all… I thought it was important to incorporate this because just loving Morgana wouldn’t be enough to make Merlin turn his back on Arthur. Also, Gwen didn’t really get to do much in the last story, so I wanted to explore what her life has become during Morgana’s reign.)


End file.
